


The Pursuit of Immortality

by WindTossedCourage



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Black Eagles Art Club, Canon Compliant, Complete, Crimson Flower Route, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, POV Edelgard von Hresvelg, Why Isn't 'Monastery Critter' a Valid Character Tag?, background ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21915316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WindTossedCourage/pseuds/WindTossedCourage
Summary: The human mind is fallible, so we must take every measure to ensure that those most precious to us are not forgotten.-Ferdinand forces Edelgard to take the afternoon off, and she finds some company in a hidden courtyard.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Bernadetta von Varley, Dorothea Arnault & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter One

Though she often told herself that she had no time for such frivolities, Edelgard spent her nights attempting to resurrect the dead with pen and parchment.

A pair of eyes with a deep crease nestled between the brows. A mouth quirked at the corner, a dimple set just below. A sharp, narrow nose dusted with freckles. Features all quite similar to her own, yet they never quite fit together to form a proper face, as the years had eroded away the finer details. Her patchwork creations drew no breath, and she became yet another mortal who had tried their hand at playing a god and failed.

In her nightmares, their faces were always obscured by shadows, their fearful eyes the only thing visible in the weak torchlight. She’d often found herself wondering what they’d looked like before they fell prey to the darkness and the injustice of the world.

Surely there had been a time before.

Regardless.

She had neither the skill nor the memory to do a proper restoration, but still, she continued night after night, trying to piece her siblings back together.

* * *

It took four years of war, dozens of skirmishes, and several spirited discussions with Hubert before Ferdinand was able to convince the emperor to rest. Even if only for an afternoon, he reasoned, just to allow for a brief respite from the strategic meetings and the weight of the crown. He then, with the utmost respect, pushed her out of the room she’d claimed for her study and shut the door.

When he removed her from the war room mere moments later, he further noted that many would consider an emperor who collapsed from exhaustion far from an effective leader.

And so, despite her masterfully constructed counterarguments and her rather impressive grip on the arms of her chair, she soon found herself loitering at the greenhouse entrance. The sun warmed her skin, chasing away the chill that clung to the walls of the massive stone buildings like cobwebs. Her presence drew attention, and she nodded at those who glanced her way. Despite the war, the monastery faced no shortage of residents, though the clergy and students had long since been replaced by refugees and soldiers.

The novelty of the emperor and her apparent interest in horticulture quickly grew old, and seeing her opportunity, Edelgard stepped off the path and slipped through the low shrubbery. Unbecoming behavior of the emperor, some would say, but Edelgard reasoned that that same position of authority granted her the right to walk wherever she well pleased.

At this time of day, the long narrow alley nestled between the greenhouse and the dormitory was cast into deep shadow and empty except for a small brown tabby cat sitting on a windowsill. Edelgard paused to scratch the cat’s cheek with a gloved thumb before continuing on her way. There was a mew and a soft thump, and the cat fell into step beside her. “I suppose it was rather naïve to think myself free of hangers-on for the afternoon,” Edelgard commented to the cat. “Though you may make a fine right hand in Hubert’s absence.”

The cat blinked at her and flicked its tail.

“No, he wouldn’t be too pleased to hear that comment. We will keep it between the two of us.”

A warm breeze swept through the alley, carrying with it the faint sound of singing. It was a single voice without accompaniment, an aria. She followed the voice, the melody building and taking shape as she approached the end of the alley. She noted that there were no lyrics.

She stepped into a courtyard. Where the alley had been muted in color and sound, the courtyard was wreathed in greenery and golden light. In their Academy days, it had been somewhat of a hidden treasure, its seclusion perfect for those looking for a moment of peace amidst the controlled chaos of Garreg Mach. It was fairly small, the space dominated by a massive cherry tree, its wide-reaching branches dotted with tiny white flowers. A half dozen stone benches, flanked by rose bushes, took up their posts along the walls, while a familiar dark-haired woman sat on another bench at the base of the tree.

Dorothea held herself carefully, with a straight back and her feet crossed at the ankles. Her face was angled towards the sun, her gaze fixed on some point beyond the tree branches as she sang. A slim leather-bound book lay unopen in her lap.

Edelgard stood unmoving at the courtyard entrance, suddenly feeling as if she’d intruded on some incredibly private moment. She turned to leave, but the cat had no such plans. It bounded forward, belly brushing through the tall grass, and leapt up onto the bench next to Dorothea.

Dorothea started at the sudden motion, her song interrupted. She glanced down at the cat as it bumped its little head against her shoulder. “Oh! Hello there! Aren’t you just the sweetest thing?” she cooed, pulling the cat onto her lap to scratch its chin. “Where did you come from?”

Edelgard sighed and began making her way into the courtyard. “Please forgive our intrusion,” she called. “Your adoring fan there decided that they just simply had to meet you.”

Dorothea’s eyes lit up. “Edie! Come join me!” She scooted over to make room on the bench. “Finally gave them the slip, did you? Getting ready to escape in the dead of night to start a new life in seclusion? My bags are packed and ready for whenever you are.”

Edelgard allowed herself a faint smile as she took a seat. “A tempting thought, but I’m afraid that’s hardly the case. Ferdinand has locked me out of both my study and the war room, insisting that I take the afternoon off to rest, but he just had to choose today of all days, when I’m in the midst of dealing with bandits cutting off one of our supply lines.”

Something flickered across Dorothea’s face, though it vanished too quickly to tell if it was disdain or thoughtfulness. “He means well, I suppose.”

“And I cannot fault him for that.” Edelgard sighed. “However, I must admit that it is nice to get out of the war room every once in a while.”

“Agreed. Now.” Dorothea held up the cat so they were cheek-to-cheek. “Tell me about your little friend here. Does she have a name?”

“I’m afraid we’ve only met recently, so if she does, I’ve yet to learn it.”

“Hmm. What should we call you?” Dorothea stroked the cat’s fur as she thought. After a moment, she smirked. “How about Furesvelg?”

Edelgard’s cheeks grew hot. “Absolutely not.”

Dorothea laughed. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“…Valfreyja.”

“Been sitting on that one for a while? It’s certainly a bold name.” Dorothea’s brows knit together briefly as she considered the name. “You could be a Freyja,” she muttered. “It’s settled then. Welcome to the Black Eagles Strike Force, Frey! The fiercest fighter yet! They shall sing your praises and shower you with fish and cuddles.”

Edelgard chuckled. “She’ll have to prove herself before she gets promoted to general.”

“But think of the propaganda that will come out of it! ‘Imperial forces are dwindling!’” Dorothea said, dropping her voice to an exaggerated baritone. “’The mad Emperor, in a desperate attempt to turn the tides of her own war, is forced to enlist the softest and fluffiest of her subjects! Arm yourselves with string and fuzzy toys!’”

“Propaganda?” Edelgard had heard rumors of anti-imperial propaganda spreading throughout the Kingdom, but none of Hubert’s spies had been able to bring her any definitive information about what was being said or who was distributing it. To think Dorothea had managed to best every last one of them without trying. “What have you heard?”

“Oh! Well.” Her gaze shifted from Edelgard’s face, settling briefly on the top of Freyja’s head before returning to Edelgard. She brushed a few errant strands of hair out of her face. “Silly things, of course. With all the new faces around Garreg Mach, volunteers from the border towns looking to enlist and defectors from the Kingdom and all the other interesting people who’ve made their way here, you can’t help but want to talk to them and hear their stories. A bit of flattery and a few well-timed compliments and they’re ready to talk your ear off!”

“I can imagine. Though I don’t mean to interrupt. Please continue.”

“Like I said. Silly rumors have been going around the Kingdom like it’s a school yard. Practically the stuff of fairy tales. They’ve painted Hubie as some kind of boogieman, lurking in the shadows, waiting to snatch up your whole family. Silly, right? Though with all the black he wears, I can see how the rumor got started. And they seem quite fascinated with Petra’s acrobatics—did you know she can apparently fly around the battlefield like a hawk? Or how about Bern’s fearsome battle cry that can bring an entire battalion to their knees in fear?”

Edelgard chuckled. “You have to commend them on their creativity.”

“Right? I hear that they’re working to put on an opera in Fhirdiad, but for the most part, bards have been travelling throughout the Kingdom.” An eyeroll. “ _Bards._ ”

“Oh? What have they done to earn your ire?”

“I’ve met far too many who think flattery and a handful of chords are acceptable substitutes for respect for others and respect for proper craft. Plus, the ones I dated tended to vanish whenever it was time to pay for dinner.”

One less well-versed in the nuances of polite conversation might have pointed out that the only true difference between opera singers and bards was mobility, but all Edelgard said was, “Ah.”

Freyja’s purring filled the brief silence that followed.

“What do they say about us?” Edelgard asked after a moment. “You and I?”

Dorothea hesitated, only for a heartbeat, so brief that one could’ve easily mistaken it for an intake of breath. “The cruel Emperor, drunk on power, kidnapping her people and forcing them to die for her own gain, and her general, the commoner woman who robes herself in lightning. A siren who leads soldiers to their death with her call, her voice drowning out the final screams of her victims.” The wind stirred through the branches of the cherry tree, scattering white petals like snow. Several dusted Dorothea’s hair and clothes, but she made no move to brush them away, her attention focused on her clasped hands in her lap. “...So there you have it. My Kingdom legacy.” 

“Dorothea—”

“And Lin. You know what they say?”

“Dorothea—"

“He has the eyes of a dead man. Utterly emotionless as he sets the battlefield ablaze. Ridiculous. You know he fainted the last time he and I assisted Manuela in the infirmary? I had to call Caspar to carry him back to his room.”

“Dorothea, please. You don’t need to continue. You said it yourself—they’re fairy tales, nothing more.”

Dorothea let out a breathy laugh. “You sound like Lin. Never bothered by anything anyone says.”

Growing up in the Imperial court, Edelgard was all too familiar with rumors and speculations.

_The Emperor has taken yet another consort—whatever happened to that last one?_

_How does one lose so many children so quickly?_

_Just one tragedy after another._

_The little princess was never meant to be the heir. How can she ever hope to be prepared to lead the Empire?_

_Poor thing. Look at her. Her hair’s gone white from the stress._

_You’re wrong, that hair isn’t natural—she must’ve suffered through the same illness that claimed her siblings. Why do you think she’s been absent from the court for so long?_

Let them whisper about her to one another behind manicured hands and closed doors. Their words were as familiar to her as the crash of waves against the shore or the pool of blood at her feet—all of it a rising tide, inevitable, racing to drown her. For as long as she lived, she would face it without wavering.

But Dorothea did not have the luxury of a lifetime spent hardening her heart against the cruel words of others. While Edelgard would remain Emperor regardless of public opinion, barring violent military occupation and her subsequent execution, Dorothea’s entire career as a diva depended on the judgement passed by a fickle audience. One misstep, one bad night, one less-than-perfect performance, and the sword would fall on her neck.

One would willingly cling to the blade of a sword, knowing it would cut them, if they believed it offered their only chance of survival.

“They don’t know you,” Edelgard said, drawing Dorothea’s attention. “The real you, sitting here next to me. All they know is a fictional character. What they say and believe is irrelevant. I know who I am, and you know who you are. And that’s all that matters.”

A wane smile crossed Dorothea’s face. She reached up and plucked a petal off Edelgard’s hair. “That’s certainly a lovely thought,” she said, examining the petal pinched between her thumb and index finger. “Though you do realize that if the Kingdom has its way and wins the war, those stories will become history and will long outlast anything we can hope to accomplish. They’re a powerful thing.”

“That they are. Which is why we will win this war and tell our own. If anyone is suited for the task, it’s you.”

“Oh, Edie, you flatter me.” Dorothea’s eyes cut back to Edelgard’s. “But I’ve had enough of the nobility and the elite controlling the narrative. If we succeed in bringing about this new, more equal Fodlan you’ve envisioned, don’t you think we should put those stories back in the hands of those who’ve had their voices stolen from them? Allow the poor, the common people a chance to finally speak up and be heard?” She lifted her chin slightly as she held Edelgard’s gaze. Very few people would dare to openly challenge the ruler of a nation like this unless they had a blade in their hand or a title to their name, and Dorothea had neither, only a sharp, hard look in her green eyes, like uncut emeralds. “No more propaganda.”

After a long moment, Edelgard simply nodded. “No more propaganda.”

The corner of Dorothea’s mouth twitched up, and she looked almost pleased, but Edelgard knew it was but a small victory in a far larger war that she herself could never fully comprehend in her position.

Dorothea set the petal on Freyja’s head, earning a loud purr from the cat. She added several more, forming a tiny flower crown. “Kind of fascinating, isn’t it?”

Edelgard scooped up a handful of petals and offered them to Dorothea, who snagged a few without taking her eyes off her new project. “What is?”

“Everyone has a different perception of who you are. The people who watched me on stage saw one person, while people at Academy saw someone entirely different. People only know fragments, facets, never the whole person. The ‘me’ you know is different from the ‘me’ the Kingdom knows, and both are different from the ‘me’ I know. All these people carrying around their own little version of me. Perhaps, when I die, they can all meet up and piece me back together so I can keep on living.”

“They can try, but I doubt it will ever compare to the real thing.”

Dorothea stopped short, her long fingers hovering above Freyja’s ears. She opened her mouth to speak before quickly shutting it. Finally, she shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “Thank you, Edie.”

The three sat in silence, though it was a comfortable one. The wind stirred the tree’s leaves, carrying with it the distant calls of merchants at the front gate and the lapping of the monastery pond. Edelgard closed her eyes, enjoying the sun’s warmth on her skin. “What was that song you were singing earlier?” she asked.

“It’s a lullaby my mother used to sing to me when I was little. I thought the children at the orphanage would enjoy it. The melody has always stayed with me, but the lyrics—well. I guess you could call it an ongoing project of mine.”

Edelgard hummed in acknowledgement, finding it rather difficult to form a full sentence.

“Would you care to hear it?”

Edelgard nodded.

The lullaby, with its rolling cadence and simple progression, reminded Edelgard of vast meadows, of starry nights, of winding city canals. Dorothea’s voice was warm and soft, like dappled sunlight.

For a brief moment, Edelgard dwelled in a world with no war rooms, no propaganda, no heavy crowns.

Only afternoons spent lounging in the shadow of a cherry tree.

* * *

Edelgard snapped awake, suddenly aware of the hazy orange light and Dorothea’s shoulder brushing against hers. Shadows crawled across the grass, and the sweet, heady scent of the greenhouse hung thick in the air. Freyja was nowhere to be found.

She straightened up, rolling her stiff neck.

Dorothea glanced over, noticing Edelgard was awake. Marking her place with a ribbon, she shut her book and angled herself to face Edelgard. “Afternoon, sleepyhead. Have a good nap?”

And Edelgard realized that, for the first time in years, she did not have a single dream.

She rubbed her eyes. The nobility would have been aghast at her slovenly behavior, but she was far to groggy to care. “Sorry.” Her voice was hoarse. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Don’t worry, Edie, you’re among friends. You’re more than welcome to relax a bit.” Dorothea’s smile dropped briefly as she rolled her eyes. “It appears our Ferdie is far more perceptive than I gave him credit for.”

“What time is it?”

“Nearing supper. And actually, I need to get going. Sorry to run out on you like this, but I promised Petra tea and dinner.” Dorothea stood. “I enjoyed spending the afternoon with you.”

Edelgard smiled and waved her on. “Likewise. I would not be opposed to doing this again sometime.”

A massive grin spread across Dorothea’s face as she turned to leave. It was so unlike her usual wry smile that, for the briefest of moments, Edelgard was caught off-guard by its radiance.

Dorothea made it halfway to the exit before she stopped short and spun on her heel. “Oh! Bern!” she called across the courtyard. “I’m just about done with the book you lent me, so I’ll stop by your room tonight to return it.”

Somewhere nearby, there was a squeak that nearly sounded like, “Okay, see you then!”

“What? Bernadetta?” Edelgard shot to her feet. “Is she here?”

Dorothea winked and pointed at the cherry tree before vanishing down the alley.

Keeping a wide berth as to not startle her quarry, Edelgard circled the tree. “Bernadetta? How long have you been here? Had I known, I would have said something to you sooner.”

She found Bernadetta tucked between two knobby roots, a sketchbook balanced on her knees and a small pouch filled with charcoals at her side. Valfreyja, esteemed general-to-be of the Black Eagles Strike Force, stretched out a little way off, dozing in a sunbeam.

Bernadetta flinched at Edelgard’s sudden appearance but, thankfully, did not run. “Sorry! Sorry! You were asleep when I got here—I won’t tell anyone, promise! I was going to leave, but Dorothea said it was all right to stay.” She clung to her sketchbook, her knuckles white.

“Well. It technically is a public space.”

A brief silence stretched out, hanging in the air like a haze. Though Edelgard was not one for fidgeting, she found herself picking at the stitching of her gloves, running her fingers through her ponytail to shake out the last few petals. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Well, if you’re busy, I shall leave you to it.”

“Wait!” Bernadetta’s charcoal-stained hand flew to her mouth, as if she were startled by her own volume. “Um,” she continued, lowering her voice. “You can stay—I mean, if you’d like! But you don’t have to! You’re an extremely busy woman, after all!”

A rare and surprisingly bold invitation from Garreg Mach’s most elusive resident. Edelgard fought back a small smile. “Well, it just so happens that Ferdinand forced me to take the afternoon and evening off, so my schedule is open. I would be delighted to stay.” She settled down next to Freyja. The little tabby chirped in greeting and stretched, batting at her long hair.

“Wait, really? I mean—great! Great.” Bernadetta let out a shaky sigh and eased her sketchbook onto her lap. For a moment, she stared at it, chewing her bottom lip in thought, before selecting a charcoal stub and returning to work.

Edelgard scratched Freyja’s chin and watched the tip of the cat’s tail twitch. “Do you often come here?”

The soft scratching of charcoal on parchment paused briefly before starting again. “Sometimes,” she said, not looking up from her sketch. “Whenever I tend to the plants in the greenhouse, I like to come here afterwards and sketch. The sunlight hits everything in such an interesting way. Plus, it’s usually nice and quiet and empty.”

“I suppose that things have been downright raucous today.”

“Huh?” Bernadetta’s head shot up. “Oh no, no. It’s actually, uh, kind of nice whenever someone else is here, because then there’s something new to sketch. A lot of the time, I find Linhardt taking a nap, and sometimes I find Dorothea, but I’m honestly happy even if it’s just a kitty.” She swapped charcoals. “You can’t always focus on the same four walls, because then you never get any better.”

Edelgard thought briefly of a darkened study and a desk piled high with wasted parchment and scratched out sketches of a woman with wild hair and piercing eyes, reminders of her failed attempts to tether a phantom to the realm of the living.

She thought of a grand hall lined with red and gold tapestries and the place by the throne where she stood alone.

She thought of a filthy dungeon crawling with vermin and the bit of sunlight she’d glimpsed when they came to remove the bodies.

And as quickly as the images appeared, Edelgard pushed them aside. “Indeed,” she murmured.

“Those are some of my favorite sketches,” Bernadetta continued, as if she’d forgotten Edelgard was there. “I guess I just really want to do my absolute best and capture all the little moments that make me happy. So that way, when things get tough or scary, I remember those moments, and things don’t seem so bad anymore.”

Edelgard leaned back on her hands, the tall blades of grass poking up between her fingers. “Such a simple philosophy, yet some may find it impossibly complex in its execution,” she said. “Perhaps I could learn something from you.”

Bernadetta squeaked and fumbled the charcoal. “Lady Edelgard! Please don’t say such crazy things!”

Edelgard sighed. “Forgive me. I must still be groggy from my impromptu nap.” She stood and brushed off her skirt. “It’s nearly time for dinner. Would you care to join me?”

“Oh! Uh.” Bernadetta curled in on herself, her eyes downcast as she considered the offer. “Yes. Yes, I would like that!” Then she gathered her things and climbed to her feet as well. Edelgard noticed, with a bit of alarm, that Bernadetta now stood several inches taller than her.

“How about you? Will you be joining us?” Edelgard asked Freyja, who was sitting up and washing her paws. The cat yawned, revealing a pink tongue, and sauntered over to join them.

Berndetta giggled and knelt down to rub Freyja’s head. “Thank you for all your hard work, little kitty. You were a wonderful model!” She shifted the pile of art supplies cradled in her arms to balance on her knee, and as she leaned over, the pile tilted dangerously to one side, offering Edelgard a glimpse of Bernadetta’s open sketchbook.

Bernadetta had captured Freyja asleep in a sunbeam, half hidden by the tall grass; her form outlined in thick lines, with special attention given to detailing the tiny paws and stripe pattern. Next to Freyja’s likeness, a second sketch had been started, currently not much more than a collection of guidelines and a rough outline. It appeared to be a woman seated in the grass with her legs tucked to the side, and she smiled faintly as she watched charcoal Freyja, as if she too were somehow admiring Bernadetta’s artistry.

Suddenly feeling a rush of embarrassment, Edelgard cleared her throat. “Shall we?”

“Yes!”

* * *

That night, Edelgard cleared off her desk and set out fresh parchment and a set of charcoals. With a trembling hand, she selected a stub, angled the parchment, and made a few rough marks to get a feel for the texture. Her first few lines were shaky, but as she settled into the rhythm, her strokes grew bolder.

Her first portrait took shape—a tall woman with dark hair to her waist, a wane smile playing at her lips despite the deep sadness shrouding her eyes.

The others quickly followed.

A girl hunched over, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. A dark-haired man with high cheekbones cocked his head, his gaze haughty. A man in elegant robes dozed against a cherry tree. A cavalier with a joyful expression calling out to his comrades in celebration. A man in armor rested an axe across his shoulders, his sharp grin issuing a challenge. A future queen bared her arms, proudly displaying her tattoos and scars.

One by one, she captured her friends in charcoal. She would be remiss to let their faces grow hazy in her memory so many others had.

Tonight, Edelgard immortalized the living.


	2. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Excerpt taken from Genevieve Hevring’s Portrait of an Emperor, 1298._

The life and reign of Edelgard I, the last Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, remained a polarizing topic among historians even after her death, her name sparking heated debate about her role in the start of the last Great War, her methodology used to bring about the reformation of the Crest and nobility system, and her complex relationship with King Dimitri of the former Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. However, despite the controversy surrounding Edelgard I, historians in various fields came together to discuss one aspect of her life amicably—her art.

A number of portraits bearing her name were discovered throughout Fodlan in the years following her death. Historians believed she had gifted them to her generals sometime after the war, with portraits being uncovered in the former territories of House Varley, House Bergliez, House Aegir, and House Hevring. The official royal portraits of Queen Petra of Brigid and her Consort, Dorothea Arnault, Lady of the Isle, both bore the Hresvelg signature. A second portrait of Dorothea Arnault resided in the Mittelfrank Theatre until it was later moved to the Enbarr Museum of Art. (It should be noted that the emperor’s own official portrait bore the signature of Bernadetta von Varley, one of her generals and most trusted advisors.)

Dozens of pieces were later discovered within the stores of the imperial palace and subsequently donated to local historical societies. Among them were multiple portraits of both Byleth Eisner and Edelgard I as well as Hubert von Vestra, a number of landscape and still life paintings, and, much to the delight of historians everywhere, hundreds of the former emperor’s half-finished personal pieces done in various mediums.

Some historians pointed to the condition of these pieces. Many of them bore scribbled-out portions or, in one case, soot marks, as if it had been rescued from a fireplace, which led to some speculation about the emperor’s confidence in her own art. Others noted, with some surprise, her choice of subjects—famous generals from both the former Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the former Leicester Alliance. Some were less surprised by this discovery, as she had been classmates with many of them during her time at the Garreg Mach Officer’s Academy and remained on agreeable terms with several of them after the Great War, as revealed by her portraits of Lysithea von Ordelia and Duke Claude von Riegan. 

Scholars took interest in 27 particular sketches. Most were incomplete or damaged, shrouding their subjects in mystery, though some pointed out that the visible features bore a resemblance to those of Edelgard I, lending some credibility to the theory that these were in fact depictions of the emperor’s siblings, the Lost Children of Hresvelg.

One sketch in particular, which depicted a young boy with a dagger, baffled scholars. This figure did not resemble those of the Hresvelg line in any way, nor did the piece bear any distinguishing marks that could answer the question of the boy’s identity. However, most scholars agreed that this boy, whoever he was, must have once been of some great significance to Edelgard I.

**Author's Note:**

> Stick a cat on a windowsill to fill out the setting and somehow it ends up as the most prominent character in the fic, whoops.
> 
> Thank you for reading. This is my first time writing these characters, so feedback is appreciated.
> 
> 10/24/2020 Edit: After reading some criticism noting that Edelgard and Dorothea's paired ending essentially amounts to Dorothea writing imperial propaganda after the war, I have decided to make a minor but fairly significant change by adding Dorothea's "no more propaganda" challenge to Edelgard, which I hope is significantly more in character for her. In my attempts to maintain some semblance of canon-compliance by taking cues from the Edelgard/Dorothea support chain, I blundered into some of the same issues that the game proper suffers from, and for that, I sincerely apologize.


End file.
